Nimrodel
An Elven-maid there was of old,A shining star by day.Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,Her shoes of silver-grey.
A star was bound upon her brows,A light was on her hairAs sun upon the golden boughsIn Lorien the fair.
Her hair was long, her limbs were white,And fair she was and free;And in the wind she went as lightAs leaf of linden-tree.
Beside the falls of Nimrodel,By water clear and cool,Her voice as falling silver fellInto the shining pool.
Where now she wanders none can tell,In sunlight or in shade;For lost of yore was NimrodelAnd in the mountains strayed.
The elven-ships in haven greyBeneath the mountain-leeAwaited her for many a dayBeside the roaring sea.
A wind by night in Northern landsArose, and loud it cried,And drove the ship from elven-strandsAcross the steaming tide.
When dawn came dim the land was lost,The mountains sinking greyBeyond the heaving waves that tossedTheir plumes of blinding spray.
Amroth beheld the fading shoreNow low beyond the swell,And cursed the faithless ship that boreHim far from Nimrodel.
Of old he was an Elven-king,A lord of tree and glen,When golden were the boughs in springIn fair Lothlorien.
From helm to sea they saw him leap,As arrow from the string,And dive into the water deep,As mew upon the wing.
The wind was in his flowing hair,The foam about him shone;Afar they saw him strong and fairGo riding like a swan.
But from the West has come no word,And on the Hither ShoreNo tidings Elven-folk have heardOf Amroth evermore.